


Wild hunt

by Cirilla9



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Chases, Giant Spiders, Hunters & Hunting, Spells & Enchantments, Terrifying Tolkien Week, Werewolves, gorgoroth, land of horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 01:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12520108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirilla9/pseuds/Cirilla9
Summary: Beren on his way from Dorthonion to Doriath, through Nan Dungortheb, the Valley of Dreadful Death.





	Wild hunt

**Author's Note:**

> For day three of Terrifying Tolkien Week, the prompt: wild hunt. Here is the hunt where a man is the prey and wolves are the hunters.

He barely walked, blisters on his foot bled. The wood of Fenced Land was visible hopefully on the horizon but it seemed no closer with passing days and miles he took. Sometimes he doubted he would reach it. Sometimes it seemed like just another cruel charm no different from those cast on the country around him to misguide a traveler.

It was cold. Frozen earth with snowdrifts tethered his steps; sky covered with heavy winter clouds didn’t let sunrays light or warm what laid beneath. Biting wind penetrated through his heavy coats and left him shivering and feeling exposed.

At least the flurry hid his footprints, or so he had hoped, from the beasts tracking him. He had not seen a wolf from two days, he had still heard them howl at nights. A ruthless army of Sauron’s slaves was at his heels but a little flame of hope fluttered in his heart minutely stronger at the lack of direct contact for such a long time.

Maybe they lost his scent. Maybe they gave up on chasing him.

At noon he saw a glitter of water. It should have been frozen solid yet the surface was liquid. He should have passed it. In all probability it was another deceiving sorcery, marred with curses that will make him forget who he was or induce hallucinations. Yet it reminded him of the lake he had lived by with his father and their companions and he was so thirsty for the water that wasn’t melted ice in his mouth.

Beren fell to his knees at the lake bank. He saw a reflection of a man much older and wearier than he once was. Wrinkles creased skin around his eyes, hair were greyish like the old man’s, troubles bent his once proud back.

He touched the water surface and the picture disappeared as the water stirred. It was almost warm compared to everything else surrounding him. He immersed both hands and splashed his bearded face gratefully.

He repeated the action a few times, washing off the weeks’ grime from his skin. It was so good to feel refreshed once more, he thought as he stared into the water to see his reflection once more before walking away. The waving water calmed unhurriedly.

As the water smoothened, Beren saw his face and, just beside it, a furry snout of a werewolf.

He jumped to his feet, away from the monster, just as the beast’s fangs snapped in the place his neck was a moment’s ago. Beren stumbled backward, reaching for his sword with clumsy wet fingers, as the oversized wolf snarled at him. Its exposed teeth flashed white, a low growl emitted continuously from its stomach; the red glittering eyes shone with too much malice and intelligence for an animal.

It jumped and Beren managed to rise his sword in time to graze the furry beast. It fell to the side, bleeding but not whining, strengthening Beren’s suspicion that what hunted him weren’t mere animals.

The wolf got up quickly, padding around the man deliberately, looking for the best chance to attack, uncaring of its own wounds. Beren kept his eyes on it, turning so the sword was always between them. With the corner of his eye he saw more of the pack coming closer, surrounding him slowly.

He needed to break it. The beast at his feet, the leader of the pack apparently, was toying with him, buying more time for its comrades to surround Beren completely.

With a cry, Beren surged at it and plunged his sword into the beast’s chest. The rest of the wolves run at him.

Not wasting his time to check if his nemesis was dead, Beren wrung his blade out in the fountain of blood, whirled around and run for his life.

He went on adrenaline, with strength supplies he did not suppose he still had, his feet caring him away from the danger. But the wolves were just behind him. He didn’t dare to look back but he heard them. The synchronized padding of countless paws, so even they seemed not tired at all, like they could continue the chase until he dropped from exhaustion.

He heard their panting too close behind. He almost fell the foul breath on his scruff.

He threw himself into the paltry forest of the sick, mostly dead trees, counting that the bushes will slow the chasing party. Thorns and twigs cut at his skin, he didn’t care, pushed them away, just to go forward, just to keep going. If he could just put a little space between himself and the monsters at his back.

Suddenly he felt like something held him, he couldn’t move forward when he so desperately needed it. He trashed but it only seemed to get worse. With dread he realized he had caught himself into a giant spider web.

The wolves were just behind, they will reach him any moment if he wouldn’t free himself but the more he trashed the more entangled he became. By the time he realized he shouldn’t be stirring the web in order not to attract the monster that build it, he saw the movement into the higher tree branches.

\- Elbereth help me, - prayed Beren with more strength behind his words than ever in his life before and maybe the great Vala heard him and looked mercifully upon him for the web broke under his sword and he fell to the ground.

He rose immediately and renewed his escape. The wolves will not wait. He heard one of them speeding up and the next moment something pulled at his coat. He jerked violently and managed to free himself but the considerable part of his outfit stayed in the hungry jaws of the canine beast. Glancing over his shoulder without slowing down, Beren saw the monster tearing the fabric to scratches in a matter of seconds.

Suddenly the ground under his feet gave up and Beren tumbled downward, falling down a great distance. He barely had time to think this will be his end as he landed in a stream below. The cold water from the melted snow engulfed him with its freezing fingers, the swift current caught him and carried with the strong current, careless of the movement of his arms and where he wanted to go.


End file.
